


Bright Eyes

by lavenderlotion



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Bakery and Coffee Shop, Developing Relationship, First Meetings, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Meet-Cute, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:35:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28361787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavenderlotion/pseuds/lavenderlotion
Summary: It’s the same routine each day, though one he never tires of. It’s the life he’s built for himself, and that life is quiet, solitary, absolutely perfect.
Relationships: Merlin/Gary "Eggsy" Unwin
Comments: 54
Kudos: 82





	Bright Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> wrote this as a short story for a romance writing class! ... hopefully i fixed all the names

Each morning, a blaring alarm draws Merlin out of bed. 

He beats the sun to a run, circling the park near his house in the last rays of light bestowed by the moon. 

Shower, change, cuppa to-go. His footsteps echo across the steep staircase; a quick flight is his commute to work. A deadbolt, door chain and a quick alarm code get him into his bakery, and every morning he steps into his kitchen, takes a deep breath, and marvels over what he’s built for himself. 

He preps for the day. Checks over what the closer did the night before. Mops. Wipes down the display window. Makes sure the few seating arrangements he keeps are well-kept. It’s the same routine each day, though one he never tires of. It’s the life he’s built for himself, and that life is quiet, solitary, absolutely perfect.

* * *

His timer is ringing insistently from the back of the kitchen. Merlin lets out something that sounds like a snarl as the heat from the baking tray he’s still holding starts to seep through his worn-down oven mitts, hurrying to the cooling wrack. The metal clangs together loudly, ringing in his ears as he rushes back across the room. 

Then the fucking bell jingles. 

_ Christ. _

Merlin cusses again as he hurriedly pulls the oven open, shutting the heat off with one hand as his other grabs the tray. He only gives the lemon muffins a cursory glance to ensure they’re mostly-cooked before dropping them onto a free counter. A moment later, Merlin’s shoving his way out of the kitchen and into the front end, stomping directly to the cash register with a frown tugging at his lips. 

“What?” he asks, gruffer than he intends. 

Then, he looks up. 

There’s no one standing in front of him. Instead, there is a young lad standing in front of the glass display case, bent all but in half. His breath fogs up the glass as he moves his whole head across the line of different treats that are still plentifully stocked. Over the quiet music Merlin keeps playing around the clock, he can hear the lad making appreciative noises. 

“‘Lo?” he asks again.

The lad pops up, and his look of surprise is clear with the raised eyebrows and open jaw. As Merlin suspected, the lad mustn’t’ve heard him. 

“Hiya!” the lad chirps. Merlin does his best to hide a wince at the sudden volume. 

“Hello,” Merlin repeats, confused when silence stretches into the air. “What can I help ye with?”

“Help?” The lad is looking at him in such a way that Merlin wishes he were wearing his apron looser, a pair of startlingly bright eyes tracking him up and down. “Oh! Yeah, yeah, help. Since I’m in your shop. Right!” 

The lad trails off and doesn’t continue. Merlin’s confusion only doubles at the lad’s odd behaviour, but he’s a customer in his shop. 

“Is there something you would like?”

“Oh yeah!” A sunny grin stretches across the lad’s face. “Yeah, I came in for a cuppa. Runnin’ way behind into work to start, figured I’d get myself a treat. Tryin’ to turn a bad day good, yeah? Think you can help with that?”

“Aye,” Merlin nods, relieved the conversation is finally making sense. “What are ye in the mood for?”

“Well I ain’t ever been here, don’t know what ya got, do I? What’s good?” 

“It all is,” Merlin says with confidence, pride swelling as he stands taller even under the lad’s sharp gaze. With a gesture to the left-hand display, the one the lad had been breathing all over, Merlin tells him, “These treats are best if ye like a kick of sour,” a gesture to the right, “and these will satisfy even the hungriest of sweet-tooths.” 

“That right?” Merlin gives a firm nod. “Well then, guess I better go for somethin’ sweet, yeah?”

“Ye... are trying to turn yer day into a good one,” Merlin says stiffly as he pushes a smile onto his face. “Aye, something sweet would do ye good.”

“That right?” Merlin gives another firm nod and allows the lad to purview the sweets display in silence. 

He asks a few questions that Merlin answers as briskly as possible. His smile is feeling more forced the longer he wears it, not used to such a talkative customer.  _ Scot Sweet _ is a small storefront that gets enough foot traffic to get by, but the clock has not even gone half-ten and therefore should be between rushes. Other than a regular who’ll be coming in another half-hour, Merlin had anticipated a clear morning. 

Fingers tapping a rhythm out against his thigh, Merlin explains what the more traditional treats are in as few words as possible. 

After a spell of considerably loud humming and hawing, the lad finally seems to decide. “Alright, I’ll take two  _ Clooties  _ and a  _ Scotch Bun.” _

“Excellent,” Merlin tells him, hiding a wince when he sounds a touch too relieved.

He gets to work packing up the treats. Firstly, Merlin slips on a plastic glove. Next, a box is grabbed from the low shelf behind the display case and placed onto the counter. His gloved hand is used to grab a pre-cut piece of wax paper that is laid down to protect the cardboard. Sliding open the glass allows him to use a pair of tongs to grab the requested baked goods and place them neatly within the box, held secure with the help of a three-fold divider he places inside before folding the box shut. 

A sticker secures it closed before his gloveless hand types a few keys onto the register, and Merlin looks up to find the lad watching him with the same quiet intensity as he had been doing so with earlier. 

“Will that be all?”

“What about a li’l pick me up?” The lad waggles his eyebrows in a ridiculous fashion, and despite himself, Merlin feels the corner of his mouth tipping up into a grin. 

“Caffeine is nae a laughing matter, lad,” Merlin tells him seriously. “I make a strong cuppa. Options are listed on the board above me.”

“Aces.” The lad doesn’t look up. In fact, he keeps his eyes planted square on Merlin’s face in a way that makes his stomach feel oddly warm. “How ‘bout you make me whatever it is you make best?”

Merlin doesn’t ask the lad if he’s sure, instead giving him another firm nod. There are cups to his left, so he grabs a large with his gloved hand and snatches a pen from the ceramic mug on the counter.

“A name for the cup, lad?” Merlin asks, pen poised. The lad looks around the empty shop with a raised eyebrow, and Merlin offers, “It’s customary.”

“Eggsy,” the lad tells him with a grin, “which ain’t my real name, duh, ‘cause that’d be fucked, yeah? It’s Gary, actually, but ain’t no way that’s flyin’ back at the Estates, yeah?”

Merlin forces his politest smile onto his face, not sure what to say now that the conversation is nae about his offerings. He gives the lad—Eggsy, which is quite the odd name for what is clearly a grown man—another nod before he turns to prepare a coffee. It is nothing fancy, a simple mocha, though the espresso is poured over a piece of the most delicious dark chocolate Merlin has ever tasted. He steams up the milk as the espresso pours, getting a good layer of foam before moving back over. 

The cup is tapped three times against the counter before Merlin gives it a hard swirl to incorporate any chocolate that has yet to melt down. The milk is poured in with little fanfare and a lid is placed snugly onto the cup right after. 

Eggsy is watching him as he turns around, and the lad does not lift his eyes from Merlin’s midsection quick enough. It leaves an uncomfortable fluttering in his belly as he stalks back to the counter to add the drink to the lad’s total, which he gives brusquely. 

“That’ll be card.” 

Again Merlin gives a nod. He ensures both the cup and box are within easy reach, sliding them across the counter as the lad pays. Eggsy ducks his head to enter a pin, and while doing so his blonde bangs flop down in front of his eyes in a way that steals Merlin’s notice. He doesn’t look away until the lad straightens back up and tucks his card back into his wallet. 

“Thank ya,” Eggsy tells him with a bright, sunny grin. “Keeps your fingers crossed for me, yeah?”

Merlin nods, thankful himself that Eggsy doesn’t appear to need a response before he’s offering up a two-finger salute and turning on the heels of his trainers. The winged-shoes—another oddity for a man who must be in his early twenties—don’t make a sound as they cross the shop’s pristine floor. 

The lad leaves and Merlin lets out a sigh of relief when the door closes with a final sounding click behind him. Resting back on the counter, he takes several deep breaths. 

Then he remembers his muffins, and happily rushes back to his kitchen to make sure they’re truly finished. 

* * *

“How was this morning?” Harry asks, leafing through the receipts as he files them into the folder appropriately. Merlin grunts. “That bad?”

He decorates the last cupcake with a flourish of his wrist Harry has never quite managed to perfect and feels a grin steal over his face despite himself. “It wasn’t bad.”

“But it wasn’t good, either,” Harry summarizes, which is just rude. Because it’s so rude, Merlin deems it an acceptable statement to ignore, and loads up a carrying tray with cupcakes to stock the display case. 

Just as he’s reaching for the tray, however, Harry clears his throat. “Hamish.”

Oh, that bugger. Well, he can full-name just as easily. “Harrison?” Merlin shoots back, an eyebrow raised at the way Harry rolls his eyes at him. 

“Oh, you miserable old git,” Harry moans at him, putting his hands on his hips. “What now?”

Merlin rolls his eyes and makes his way to the shop-front, though Harry trails after him with the same insufferable look on his face that Merlin has dealt with for the last three decades. “It was not bad. There was just a... talkative lad.”

Harry barks out a laugh, which gets him a dirty look as Merlin stocks the display case. “This is why I wasnae going to tell ye.”

“Oh bugger off,” Harry fires back, not a lick of remorse to his tone. “What, a customer came in and yapped your head off?”

“I will have ye know the young man was quite intrusive,” Merlin tells him, feeling a sudden need to defend his displeasure. 

_ “Intrusive?” _

“Aye. He kept... looking at me.”

Harry stares at him for a long moment. As the silence stretches on Merlin finishes loading the display case, so he pulls it shut and returns to the kitchen. He does a mental check of the tasks he’s already completed, making a list of the things he still needs to get done before turning in for the night. Before he’s able to begin washing the tray in his hands, Harry bursts back into the room. 

“You mean to tell me a young man came into the shop, checked you out obviously enough for you to  _ notice _ him doing so, and you didn’t get his number?”

Taken aback at the absolute disdain in Harry’s voice, Merlin asks, “Why in Heaven’s name would I get his number?”

_ “Why in Heaven’s name?!” _ Harry’s voice does something Merlin has only heard a few times in their long lives, and it raises several octaves. “What in Heaven’s name! Hamish, in case you have failed to notice, you are not getting any younger!” 

Merlin scowls at his friend’s tone, turning the sink on out of spite. Unfortunately, the water spray is not enough to make Harry leave like Merlin would so clearly like, and instead, the man comes over and  _ hops onto the counter _ beside him. 

And Harry called  _ him _ the git?

“Ye are right, Harry. I am nae getting any younger, however, I huvnae the slightest idea what my increasing age has to do with Eggsy?”

_ “Eggsy,” _ Harry says slowly—much too slowly for a name consisting of three letters and a single syllable, before he adds, “you remember the boy’s name. You must have fancied him.”

“Absolutely not, you wanker,” Merlin protests, but even as the words leave his mouth he knows they’re too strong to sound anything other than forced. 

By the grin Harry gives him, he knows it too. 

* * *

That night, Merlin lies in bed with his hands folded over his belly. Tense fingers press into his ever-softening gut as he remembers the way Eggsy’s bright eyes had been focused on his backside before too-slowly climbing his frame. Harry’s accusation floats through his mind, as does the way the man had teased him through the rest of his work and out of the kitchen. 

It has been nearly a decade since Merlin has had the attention of another man in such a way. His last attempt at a relationship had ended so horribly he’d figured there was nae a reason to try again. Despite what Harry bugs him about, Merlin is content alone. 

As he rolls onto his side and tugs a pillow against his chest, he can’t help but wonder what it would feel like to have a young man snuggled against him. 

* * *

The next day is business as usual. Merlin goes for his run and allows himself a few extra minutes in the warmth of his shower. His cuppa brews as he makes a piece of toast. He gets into the kitchen before the sun has fully risen and gets the shop ready for the day, particularly enjoying the playlist humming from the speakers. 

As it is a Wednesday, his first customer arrives exactly two minutes after the doors open. Merlin already has his drink ready. 

There are a few more regulars, a number of walk-ins, though none that force conversation, none with lingering eyes. 

It’s a good day. 

* * *

Two days later, Eggsy arrives again. 

He enters the shop in a flurry of ridiculous movement. The lad’s arms are swinging about as he trips through the front door, the bell jingling jovially. Merlin, already stationed behind the counter, feels a grimace freeze over his face that he does his very best to turn into  _ something _ resembling a grin. 

He does nae doubt that it falls short. 

“Hiya!” Eggsy greets at a volume absolutely not appropriate for the way they’re both indoors and standing only a few feet from one another. “How’s it goin’, Merls?”

Merlin lifts an eyebrow and doesn’t deign to answer. His name tag very clearly spells  _ ‘Merlin’. _

The lad’s face goes a little pink, which is troublingly endearing. Eggsy pitches forward and leans a hip against the counter, before he asks, “So, how’re you doin’ today?”

“Well, thank you,” Merlin answers stiffly, raising both eyebrows. “What can I get ye?”

The wide smile on the lad’s face gets a touch smaller. “Ugh, yeah. Right. What you made me the other day was bloody aces!” Merlin inclines his head in thanks. After another moment of silence, Eggsy adds, “So, yeah. I’ll get a large one of those?”

“Just a moment, lad.”

Merlin gets to work, turning on his heel and getting the coffee going. He quickly scribbles Eggsy's name on the side of the cup before grabbing a block of chocolate. It doesn’t take long for the milk to steam and he quickly tops the cup with a lid, and once again turns around to find the lad watching his backside. 

He places the cup on the counter and slides it over, not at all expecting Eggsy to gasp out loud. 

“You remembered me?” the lad asks him, and his eyes shoot open real wide. 

“It is a memorable name, lad,” Merlin tells him, ringing up his total and giving it to him. “Card?”

Eggsy nods. There is a small smile on his face that Merlin finds himself unable to look away from. Merlin’s eyes track the curve of his cupid’s bow as he pays, and only manages to draw his gaze from the lad’s eyes when he looks up. “Thank ya,” Eggsy says quietly, his cheeks shaded a pretty pink. 

“Aye. Enjoy your day, lad.”

“You too, Merls,” Eggsy says in a tone that sounds  _ teasing, _ and Merlin glares him out of the shop. 

* * *

“Did the boy come in again?” Harry asks him the moment he steps through the front doors. “You have a...” Harry gestures to his own face and does something absolutely ridiculous with his mouth, and then points to Merlin. “You have a thing going on.”

Blessedly, the shop is empty. 

Merlin still refuses to answer. 

* * *

Three days later, Eggsy strolls in and asks, “This a real nice place, innit?”

“I like to think so, aye.”

“You’re closed Sunday’s, huh?” Merlin nods in answer, and then makes a dark chocolate mocha. 

* * *

“So... you from around here?” 

It’s a Thursday. Merlin is running behind on the afternoon baking. Eggsy is giving him the same smile Merlin has done his best not to think about the last few days, and the way the lad is looking at him is making his belly turn over uncomfortably. He does nae like the fluttering in his chest. 

“Nae,” Merlin tells him with a raised eyebrow, emphasizing his softened Scottish brogue. He can tell his tenseness bleeds into his voice as he asks, “What would ye like today?”

Eggsy takes a deep breath and the lad draws his shoulders up. Merlin doesn’t feel bad—there is nae a reason for him to answer such a question in any greater detail. 

Merlin gets on making a mocha as soon as the words are out of the lad’s mouth. It puts Merlin’s back to him, which would be well and good if he wasn’t certain Eggsy was watching him. He does his very best to ignore the weight of his eyes, wondering just what the lad is trying to gain by coming in so frequently. The dark chocolate mocha that Merlin has made for him each visit  _ is _ quite delicious, but there must be other shops on the lad’s route. 

He asks Eggsy if he would like any baked goods by looking heavily at the display case. Merlin gets a sunny smile for his efforts, and feels a small amount of tension ease at the base of his neck as he gets to work packing up the treats Eggsy requested. 

He adds an extra scone for the tone he’d taken and hopes the lad will understand. 

It is quick work to ring him up and select the option for a card payment. Merlin watches him as he pays, which is something that is beginning to feel more like a ritual than he would like. Eggsy's eyes look particularly blue today, Merlin can’t help but notice, and he startles back to himself when blue irises rise to meet his gaze.

“Thanks, Merls,” Eggsy says with a wink, taking a long moment to look him up and down before he’s turning around. 

“It is Merlin,” he calls and absolutely does  _ not _ watch him leave. 

* * *

Merlin is groaning before the bell even begins to jingle. He had been desperately hoping the downpour would keep Eggsy away, but the young lad tracks a puddle into his shop. Bloody hell, he’s going to have to mop that up before someone slips. Just as he’s soothing himself with the knowledge he’ll be able to try out a new floor cleaner, Eggsy lifts a sodden hood off his head and—

Oh dear. Eggsy's hair is completely drenched, and his bangs are hanging heavily across his forehead. Yet, despite being soaked to the bone, his eyes are shining from behind his water-darkened hair, and his smile is as sunny as ever. 

Silently, Merlin hands him a brolly along with his coffee, and tunes out Eggsy's litany of thanks. 

He needs to balance out all the bad things he’s done in his long years somehow. It doesn’t mean a thing. 

* * *

“Do you always work the mornin’ shift or have I just been gettin’ real lucky?” Eggsy asks him on a Tuesday, with a waggle of his eyebrows that reminds Merlin of the first day he’d come into the shop, nearly three weeks ago. 

Merlin doesn’t answer. Especially not when the lad winks at him.

* * *

Merlin does  _ not _ look up when the bell jingles. Aye, he is standing behind the counter, but he is  _ also _ wiping down the coffee machine. It does nae matter than he has already done so today. Not at all. He is just being cleanly, which is incredibly important in the food industry, after all. So he does not look up when the bell jingles. No, he looks up  _ after _ the bell jingles, as he was already planning on looking up, which is what he does. 

Aye. It is just a coincidence and nae a thing more. 

A coincidence he immediately regrets as all Merlin is met with is the smiling face of his oldest companion. 

“Harry,” he greets, before going back to cleaning the coffee machine. As it needs to be cleaned, of course. 

The soft tapping of Harry’s dress shoes crossing the shop’s floor comes to an abrupt stop. Merlin finishes what he’s doing before turning around, doing his utmost to prepare himself for whatever insanity is without a doubt about to leave his friend’s mouth. With Harry, it is truly never a dull moment. 

“What the bloody hell are you doing out here?” Harry asks him sharply, his eyes seeing far too much when Merlin finally looks at him. “Were you watching the door, Merlin?”

Merlin jerks back in shock, before stating, “Absolutely not!” 

Then, he pushes into the kitchen. 

He should have known that one could only be so lucky. Harry follows after him, singing his name in a dastardly pitch that drives Merlin’s tension headache impossible higher. Merlin goes right to the sink to wash his hands, pretending that Harry is nae standing behind him and that when he turns out, the other man will be gone. 

He allows himself a series of deep breaths before he turns around, and... bugger. 

Harry is still there. 

“Aye?” Merlin asks, feeling a frown cross his face at the incredulous look Harry is giving him. 

“Oh, someone is in a bad mood.”

“Bugger off, Harrison,” Merlin snaps, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath as he pinches the bridge of his nose. 

“What, did Gary not show today?” Harry asks with a laugh, but when all Merlin does is glare, it dies off quite quickly. “Oh, really?”

“Leave it, Harry,” Merlin tells him firmly, turning his back on his friend to get to work at finishing up his work for the day. 

“Gary is the one who has left it, it seems,” Harry says jovially. “And in case I wasn’t being clear, Merlin, ‘it’ is you.”

“Harrison...” Merlin starts, trailing off into nothing but leaving the threat clear in the air. 

“Oh, come off it!” Harry barks back, annoyingly not threatened. “This young man fancies you and all you are doing is moping after him!”

“I am nae moping!”

“Yes you are! You were waiting for him to arrive and when it was merely me, you were displeased.”

“That does nae mean I am moping, Harry,” Merlin tries to point out, suddenly feeling unbearably tired. 

“While that is correct, don’t think I do not know you well enough to know when you are moping, my friend. You should tell the lad you fancy him!”

“You dinnae know what ye are speaking of,” Merlin snaps, his hands flexing at his sides as he keeps himself from curling his fingers into fists. 

“Oh shut it! I know what I’m talking about far more than you do,” Harry snaps right back, his voice rising. “It has been ten bloody years since you last got your heart broken. Do you not think it is time to try again?”

The fight drains out of him all at once. Merlin’s eyes fall closed as his shoulders sag, and the stress of the day catches up to him. While he won’t admit it to Harry, his friend is right. Every time the bell jingled, he had hoped for Eggsy. Every time it hadn’t been the lad, a fresh wave of disappointment had washed over him. 

Hearing Harry tell him what he already knows but is not yet ready to hear... well. He’s done enough for the day. 

“Goodnight, Harrison,” Merlin bids, and does not let Harry stop him from leaving the kitchen and entering his apartment. 

After he ensures all his locks are in place, he leans against the cool door for several long minutes. 

* * *

Thankfully the next day is a Sunday. 

Merlin doesn’t leave his bed but to eat. 

* * *

On Monday, Merlin spends his morning trying a new recipe for scones. He can hear Harry’s insistent voice in his ear teasing him, but he is firm in his own mind-space as he reminds himself that he is  _ not _ trying a new recipe just for Eggsy. Sure, the lad has a favouring for scones, but it is absolutely unrelated. 

Absolutely unrelated. 

Ah, bugger, Merlin’s not even sure he believes himself. 

He’s just taken out his most recent batch of scones when the bell jingles. He quickly sets a timer and puts another batch in, before dusting his hands off on his apron and hurrying to the front. Something that feels like relief runs across his skin as he sees who it is. 

He’s already fighting a smile before Eggsy even gets to the counter. Despite Harry’s insistence from the night before that Eggsy fancies him, Merlin is nae an idiot. Eggsy might think him attractive, but that is all and that is not enough for Merlin to risk his heart. 

“Hiya, you’re lookin’ extra grumpy today,” Eggsy chirps, happy as can be. “Did you miss me?”

“Nae, don’t be silly,” Merlin says, but by the way Eggsy's smile stretches even wider and his cheeks tint pink, he must nae sound very believable. 

Which is when Merlin notices a cluster of glitter shining on the highest point of Eggsy's cheekbone. 

“Lad you have some...” Merlin gestures to his own face while he trails off.

Eggsy's face scrunches him rather adorably, and he scrubs his knuckles a little too-harshly across his check. It pinkens his fair skin, which only makes the remaining glitter stand out more. 

“Oh, huh,” Eggsy's hums, looking at his hand. “My girl ‘n I were playin’ dress up this mornin’. Guess I didn’t get it all off.”

Merlin stills. “Yer girl?”

“Yeah, my Dais. She’s my little sister ‘n the love of my life. Cutest thing you’ll ever see, she is.” Eggsy's entire face transforms as he talks about his sister. There is an awed quality to his voice that Merlin finds absolutely endearing, and the sudden soft smile that spreads across his face is one of the most attractive things Merlin’s ever seen. “Been raisin’ her for some time now, ‘n I gotta say she’s doin’ pretty well.”

“Aye, I can believe that.”

Merlin’s words flash anger across Eggsy's face. “Wot’s that ‘posed to mean?” the lad asks, his accent getting thicker as his words slide together. 

“It does nae mean a thing, lad,” Merlin assures, as comfortingly as he can while he tries to think of what he may have said to bother the lad. “Any young lass with a lad willing to don glitter for her is being treated well.”

Eggsy deflates, and his smile appears sheepish. “M’sorry ‘bout that, Merls. Lot’sa wankers see a single Dad my age ‘n make a whole lotta ‘sumptions ‘bout how my girl’s doin’, yeah?”

“I can only imagine,” Merlin tells him, and then notices that Eggsy looks just a tad more tired than normal. A quick glance at the clock confirms he’s nearly an hour later than he is usually. 

“Have you eaten breakfast?” Merlin asks, and gets a nae in response. “Hold on,” he requests, and then turns to enter the kitchen. 

He grabs two still-warm scones and plates them atop a napkin before he rushes back to the front. Merlin pushes the plate into Eggsy's space, not giving the lad a chance to decline, and he does not shiver as their fingers brush.

“What’re these?” Eggsy asks, taking a deep breath and then letting out a noise that should absolutely never be made in public.

“Breakfast,” he says gruffly. Then he points to a large armchair nearest the cash, and says, “Have a seat,” before making him a mocha. 

Hours later, Merlin doesn't breathe a single word to Harry and yet the insufferable git still seems to know. 

* * *

It is three days later when Eggsy asks, “What’s your favourite drink?”

“I am quite partial to the mocha I make ye,” Merlin tells him as he caps the very drink he’s just made for the young lad. 

“Yeah? Make another ‘n have a sit with me then?”

Merlin sucks in a sharp breath at the offer. There is nae a chance that the lad is asking him out, but if Merlin didn’t know any better he would certainly think it sounded quite like an offer for a date. As it is  _ not _ an offer for a date, Merlin shakes his head. “Nae, lad, though the offer is appreciated.”

Eggsy gives him a smaller smile, and seems to promise, “Next time.”

* * *

“You know, Merls?” Eggsy asks him on one of the mornings where he’s convinced Merlin to have a coffee with him. Eggsy is curled up on one of the shop’s biggest armchairs, his hands folded up in too-long sleeves in a way that is far more adorable than it should be, “you’re fuckin’ hilarious, yeah? You might be a quiet fucker, but holy shit.”

“Thank ye, lad,” Merlin murmurs, and then he spends the rest of the day with his chest puffed out proudly like some ridiculous peacock... or like Harry when anyone pays him a compliment.

* * *

“I huvnae always wanted to own a bakery,” Merlin mentions one day, after Eggsy has told him that he’s getting a degree in early childhood education while working at some tech company that pays the bills well enough. “I’m not... fond of people I dinnae know.”

Eggsy snorts so hard coffee spills out of his nostrils. He hacks, quite loudly, and Merlin slowly slides his own, untouched, glass of water across the table. 

“You’re the guv,” Eggsy mutters around fits of coughing, before he eventually calms down. “God, you can’t do  _ that _ to a man!”

“Do what?”

Eggsy narrows his eyes. “I was nae making a joke, lad,” Merlin says, a touch defensive. 

“Fuck, Merls, I  _ know _ you ain’t jokin’ but any bloke who  _ looks _ at ya can tell you don’t like talkin’ to people.”

Merlin nods, though he suddenly feels uncomfortable.

“Sorry, I’m soundin’ an ass,” Eggsy says, straightening up in his seat. “Listen, it’s clear as fuckin’ day you don’t like dealin’ with folk. But one bite outta  _ anythin’ _ in this place ‘n it’s even clearer you love what you do.”

“Oh,” Merlin breathes, a smile curling around his face as Eggsy's words sink in and leave something undeniably warm sitting in his chest. 

* * *

“Oh he  _ is _ pretty,” Harry says one day. He’s shown up early,  _ very _ early, and he spent Eggsy's entire visit eyeing him like a meal. 

Merlin growls at him, and decides to cut his shift short. 

Harry is already at the shop, after all. 

* * *

The next morning, Merlin tells himself he’ll ask Eggsy for his number. 

Which gives Merlin three days to talk himself up. Yes, it has been a decade since he last dated someone but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t know how to ask someone out. He might be nearing fifty, but he isn’t  _ dead _ and he highly doubts that things have changed so drastically in the last ten years that he can’t ask a handsome young lad for his phone number. 

And... well Harry is right, loathe as Merlin is to admit to it. Eggsy  _ does  _ fancy him, of that Merlin can assure himself. While the lad’s constant visits could certainly be chalked up to an enjoyment of  _ Scot Sweet’s  _ offerings, the way he wheedles Merlin into taking a break with him during each visit could not. Merlin knows more about Eggsy and his life than he does about anyone’s save Harry. 

In turn, Eggsy undoubtedly knows more about  _ Merlin _ than anyone save Harry. 

And while Eggsy still looks at him, and does his  _ ridiculous  _ eyebrow waggle, neither make Merlin uncomfortable. In fact, they’ve filled him with nothing but warmth the last few weeks. 

So he’s going to do it. 

It feels right. 

* * *

The morning of, Merlin runs an extra mile. There is a skip to his step as he goes through getting the bakery ready for the day. As he hums along with each song that plays, he finds himself smiling. 

It’s been so long since he’s felt this way. 

It’s a Thursday, which means his first regular comes an hour after opening. They bring with them a steady thrum of foot traffic that lasts over an hour. Merlin knows that Eggsy should be arriving any moment, and does his best not to think of it. It has been  _ weeks _ since the lad first stumbled into his shop and since then he has visited, like clockwork, every third day. Except for a single occurrence Merlin later found out was related to young Daisy, he’s not missed a day. While he usually arrives in the early morning, there are times he comes in the early afternoon, depending on his sister. 

Only the morning passes, and so does the afternoon, with nae a sign of Eggsy. 

Merlin waits until Harry shows up before he gives up on Eggsy arriving. 

He hopes Daisy is alright. 

* * *

The lad doesn’t show the next day, nor two days after that like he should. By the ninth day, the third visit Eggsy has missed, Merlin can no longer pretend, not even to himself, that he isn’t worried sick. 

“Don’t lose hope, my friend,” Harry soothes, his hands firm and grounding resting upon his shoulder. “He will come back.”

* * *

“What has that dough ever done to you?” Harry calls as he walks into the kitchen. The suit he’s wearing today is a deep maroon shade that makes him look more tanned than he is. 

Merlin grunts as he continues kneading. There is little in ways he’s able to work out his frustration. His morning runs have already gotten miles longer than they’ve ever been before. One can only read so angrily, after all. Merlin has no other output for his ever-growing frustration and so, frustratingly, it keeps growing. 

“Merlin,” Harry says softly enough that Merlin pauses and allows himself a deep breath before looking at his friend. There is pity on his face. 

“I am just finishing up. This dough will need to rest overnight.”

“Alright,” Harry says jovially, a bland smile on his face. “How was your morning?”

Merlin counts to seventy-three before Harry asks, “Still no sign of him?” 

It’s been exactly two weeks since Eggsy didn’t show; Merlin doesn’t even need to answer. 

His glare says it all. 

* * *

On the third week, Merlin doesn’t open the shop. It’s only one day. He’s only one man. 

* * *

The buzzer to his apartment rings seven times before he drags himself out of bed and marches down the stairs. Instead of turning left into the bakery, he takes a right, stomping a few more heavy steps to the doorway which leads to the back alley behind the shop which also serves as his front door. He’s in nothing but ill-fitting pants and when he wrenches the door open a shiver wracks across his nearly-bare frame. 

“What the hell do ye want, Harry?” Merlin demands, crossing his arms over his chest. 

If it were anyone but, he’d feel exposed in nothing but his undergarments, but he and Harry have known each other for three decades. As it is, Merlin is near incapable of feeling anything other than anger and despair. 

“You didn’t open the shop yesterday,” Harry accuses him before pointing at his watch. “You should have been down in the kitchen three hours ago. What the hell are you doing?”

Merlin doesn’t answer. 

“Are you ill?” Harry asks, though he damn well knows he isn’t.

“Do I look ill?”

“Shall I truly answer that?” Harry asks, in a tone that Merlin knows is meant to be teasing. 

He is nae in the mood for teasing. 

Harry seems to understand. “Oh, you miserable old git,” Harry sighs, but before he can say any more Merlin is clearing his throat. 

“You dobber,” Merlin growls, close to stomping his foot. “Ye don’t get to call me miserable when it is yer fault that I am!”

“I haven’t done anything, Merlin!”

“Ye are the only reason this is happening, Harrison!” Merlin shouts, fighting against burning eyes. “Ye were the one who told me the lad fancied me. Ye were the one that  _ convinced _ me I was something more than a bitter old man, and it is  _ yer _ fault that my heart is breaking!”

“Merlin...”

“Nae, Harry! I said I wanted to be left alone and ye bloody well need to respect that.”

“Alright,” Harry says quietly. “I will leave you be. But Merlin? I will be here the moment you need me.”

Merlin slams the door in his face. 

* * *

The next day, Merlin wakes up with a pounding headache and a mouth that feels like it’s stuffed full of cotton. His fingers reach weakly for his telephone and through bleary vision, he types out one of the few numbers he has memorized. 

“Merlin?” Harry answers on the second ring, even though he’s meant to spend Sundays with his in-laws. 

“How did I break my own heart all over again?”

The line rings with silence for several beats of Merlin’s sluggish heart, and then, “I’ll be over soon, my friend.”

* * *

Merlin is once again cleaning the coffee machine when the bell jingles. It’s a task Harry hates doing and one Merlin enjoys enough, and it’s simple enough work that it does nae take much attention. He does nae turn around, not until a too-familiar voice says his name.

Nae. 

Nae, this cannae be happening. 

“Merlin,” Eggsy breathes, like it’s nae just a name, like it’s so much more. 

Merlin turns around so fast he nearly falls. He thanks whatever deity might be watching as he remains standing, though his knees go dangerously weak as he takes in the young lad standing before him. 

Eggsy looks... bloody hell, there’s nae use denying himself anymore. Eggsy is absolutely gorgeous, just as gorgeous as he had been the first day he stumbled into the shop. Merlin hadn’t forgotten, but it seems to hit him like a bloody freight train now, as his breath is knocked out of him by the way Eggsy's bangs, looking a touch longer than he remembers, flop in front of his eyes before the lad pushes them back. 

The lad grins, something small and edged in nerves. 

“Hiya, Merls,” Eggsy says, and  _ Christ, _ but it hurts. 

“‘Lo,” Merlin greets evenly, tucking his hands into his apron to hide their shaking. 

“H-How are ya?”

Even a month ago, Merlin would have shut down and clammed up tight. A week ago, he just would have fled. He would have nae answered such a personal question to someone he hardly knew, but Eggsy is nae someone he hardly knows. At least he had  _ thought _ he knew the lad, after all the time they spent together. 

Merlin does nothing but hold his ground. This is his shop, and if Eggsy has come back it must be for a reason. 

_ This is his shop, _ Merlin reminds himself. 

“What can I get ye?” Merlin finally asks, doing his best to ignore the fluttering in his chest as Eggsy just  _ stares _ at him. 

“O-Oh,” Eggsy finally whispers, swaying backward before he squares his shoulders. “Uh... actually thought we could do somethin’ different this time, yeah?”

Eggsy gives him a wide smile and holds up a box decorated in glitter. 

“Nae.” Merlin does his best to sound firm even with the way his heart is racing. “Ye have not been in here in  _ weeks _ and suddenly ye expect—”

“I am  _ so _ sorry mate,” Eggsy gushes, cutting him off and launching into a babble so fast Merlin can barely keep up. “I swear to ya, Merls, I was only gonna be gone the three days. Ain’t never intended to be away like this,  _ fuck, _ I hated bein’ away, ya gotta believe me, yeah? But Dais fell ill—”

“Is she alright?” Merlin asks urgently, ignoring the hurt heavy in his gut as his chest fills with concern for the young lass he’s heard such a great deal about. 

“She’s aces now, yeah,” Eggsy says, all but slumping in relief as he says the words. Merlin does too. “It was some type’a infection? The medical shit ain’t my strong point, yeah, but it was bad. Had to take her to the hospital fuckin’  _ three _ times, thought I was gonna die every one. Ain’t been my little girl with me these last weeks, but she’s finally on the up now.”

“Oh, lad, that is wonderful news,” Merlin can’t help but say, and the smile that spreads across his face is the easiest one he’s worn in days. 

Eggsy smiles at him, then gets real serious. 

“Alright listen, I had a plan, yeah? I was gonna go away for a few days ‘n be back like I was ‘posed to be. But then every fuckin’ batch was shit, yeah? Don’t know how the fuck you make this shit taste so good when all I was able to do was fuck it up for three days in a row, but I  _ was  _ gonna come back, just a day late. Then Dais got sick ‘n I didn’t have your number, which was the whole fuckin’ problem to begin with, innit, so I couldn’t tell ya ‘n I ain’t got no one else to watch her, she was  _ sick,  _ ‘n so I couldn’t just leave her with anyone, yeah? Not my Dais! 

“‘N now it’s been  _ weeks, _ ‘n I get that you pro’lly don’t wanna see me, ‘cause that was a dick thing to do, but I swear to ya, Merls, it was a total fuckin’ accident. Give me a chance, please?”

There are so many things Merlin thinks of saying, but what he ends up asking is, “You had a plan?”

“Oh fuck!” Eggsy exclaims. Christ, Merlin is glad the shop is empty. 

Very suddenly Eggsy slams the glittery cardboard box down onto the counter, right next to the cash register. Merlin eyes it suspiciously, feeling oddly like something is going to pop out and attack him. Thankfully nothing does, and all that happens is Eggsy opening the lid to reveal five... cupcakes? 

Cupcakes iced rather... interestingly, with what appears to be a letter on each one. 

Merlin tilts his head to the side as he stares at the inside of the box in concentration. Eventually, he asks, “‘Diner’?” 

“Dais ate the other ‘N’.” Eggsy's laugh is just as bloody beautiful as the flush on his cheeks. “Said you’d have to meet her to find out what the word was ‘posed to be.”

“Ye’ve told yer lass about me?”

“Merls, I’ve told, like, everyone I  _ know _ about ya. My mates are dead tired of hearin’ ‘bout how much I like your ass.”

“You... like my ass?”

“‘N everythin’ else!” Eggsy is quick to say, throwing his arms out around himself and then gesturing wildly in Merlin’s direction. “I like it all! I like  _ you! _ But I ain’t got the type ‘a mates you gush ‘bout your feelin’s to, so I mostly talk about your ass.”

Merlin’s face is burning. “I like yer ass too, lad,” he admits, then pulls his phone from his back pocket. “I had a plan of my own, though not one nearly as thought out. I was simply going to ask ye for yer number.”

“Ah, fuckin’ hell, yeah? Then I didn’t show up like a wanker.”

“Aye,” Merlin agrees, which causes Eggsy to wince. “However I understand that the lass’ wellbeing is more important than anything else.” Merlin holds out his phone and says, “I will need yer number to take ye for dinner.”

“Yeah? For real, Merls?”

“Aye, lad,” Merlin agrees, his own smile feeling fit to burst. “I would love to go out with ye.”

“Oh fuck yeah! I knew the cupcakes would win ya heart!”

Merlin smiles, indulgently, and watches Eggsy create a new contact on his phone. “Aye, lad,” he agrees again, his heart fluttering, “the cupcakes did the trick.”

**Author's Note:**

> there was still a LOT that i wanted to do with this fic that i couldn't get to... thinking of expanding on it one day!
> 
> come say hi to me on [tumblr](https://lavender-lotion.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> kudos aren’t the same as getting a comment, not even close. so a comment, as short and sweet or as sprawling and sporadic as you can manage, would be _greatly_ appreciated! don't know what to comment? how about _”this was great!”_ or _“awesome work!”_


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